Date: Mon, 17 Mar 2003 19:39:47 +0000
From: Jeffrey Fletcher
Subject: A Tale of Two Englishmen Part 6.
This is a story that involves sex between males. if such a story is
offensive, or illegal for you tor read where you live, then do not
continue, go and surf elsewhere.
This is a work of fiction and in no way draws on the lives of any specific
person or persons. If there is any similarity to any real persons or events
it is entirely coincidental.
The work is copyrighted (c) by the author and may not be reproduced in any
form without the specific written permission of the author. It is assigned
to the Nifty Archives under the terms of their submission agreement but it
may not be copied or archived on any other site without the written
permission of the author.
My thanks to John and Michael who have read this through and made a number
of corrections and suggestions. Any remaining errors , grammatical,
spelling or historical or whatever are entirely my fault.
If you want to comment on the story then do contact me on
Jeffyrks@hotmail.com. I aim to reply to all messages.
This story is dedicated to Ron, who lives in an English village, and whose
chance remark while we were chatting gave me the idea for this tale. The
story bears absolutely no resemblance to his relationship with J. Neither
Ron or J identify in any way with either character.
Resume:- Malcolm and Simon are two gay men who live in a homophobic English
village. They have met, but have carefully concealed their sexual
orientation from each other. Both have been thinking over their own
personal sexual stories. In this part Malcolm is remembering how he met Ben
so we continue Malcolm's story.
Part 6
The next evening Malcolm made his way round to Ben's. Mrs Mann opened the
door, and sent him upstairs to Ben's room. He knocked on the door.
"Who's there? Come in"
Malcolm went in.
Ben was lying on his bed reading. He was obviously surprised to see
Malcolm. "You alright? Nothing wrong is there?"
Malcolm walked across the room and put both hands on Ben's shoulders. "No,
my friend, there's nothing wrong. Far from it. I called in on my way home
to say thank you for yesterday evening."
"You enjoyed it?"
"I should say."
"Come on then, give us a kiss."
They stood in the middle of the room giving each other a good hug, and
exchanging deep tonguing kisses.
"I'm glad you called round. When it is someone's first time you always
wonder if they were going to have second thoughts."
"Not at all. Can we do it again? Do some more?"
A slow grin spread over Ben's face. "I think we might manage that." I
can feel you're wanting more. He rubbed his groin into Malcolm, and both
could feel that their cocks were certainly eager to meet again.
"The trouble is I have no time now. If I'm late home there will be a bit
of an inquisition. Anyway; see you on Saturday. We'll have to talk
cricket for a couple of minutes, or Mrs Mann will see something and get
suspicious. He stuck his crotch out, and his penis was in its phallic
state.
So they talked cricket for a minute or two, exchanged a quick, unarousing
kiss, and they both went downstairs. Soon Malcolm was on his bicycle on
his way home.
On Saturday Malcolm was expected to do a couple of hours work at the shop
before playing cricket. He cycled to work with his cricket bag perched
precariously on the cross-bar and handle-bars in front of him. Another
member of the team who had a car picked Ben and Malcolm up and they went off
to Whitgest. It was on a warm early summer day that Malcolm began his
association with Whitgest and cricket. He was made very welcome by the
other members of the team. He had a good match. In a low scoring game on
a wicket made damp by the rain earlier in the week he made the second
highest score of 25. The game did not go on as late as it often did, and
as their driver wanted to get home as soon as possible they were soon back
in Luton.
They made their way up to Ben's room. No sooner was the door shut than they
were in each other's arms.
"I have been wanting to do that since I saw you this morning," said Ben.
"I'm glad you didn't when I was batting."
"I just enjoyed you from afar. I just wished you were naked when you made
that superb cover drive. Your bum and figure turned me on."
"Well I'm glad I wasn't naked. I like some protection when I bat!"
They both laughed.
"But I think the ancient Greeks got it right when all their athletics were
done in the nude, and no women were allowed as spectators," said Ben.
"I didn't know that."
"Mind you; a gorgeous fellow competitor might have given me a hard on, and
that would have reduced my chances."
"Of winning, maybe. But you might have got some good sex."
All this was spoken as they clasped each other Both were aware of two
hardening cocks.
"That feel's good, Ben. How safe are we up here?"
"Mrs Mann rarely comes up stairs these days. She would certainly knock.
The trouble is we can't do anything on the bed."
"Why not?"
"Sit on it, and you'll soon find out."
Malcolm broke from their clinch and went and sat on the bed. It creaked
loudly. "I see what you mean. We could put the mattress on the floor?"
"I suppose we could. If we put on the radio with some music, it will
drown any other sounds."
They lifted the mattress with all the sheets and blankets on it off the bed,
and on to the floor. They looked at each other for a moment.
Ben stepped across to Malcolm. "I want to see you properly." He started
to undo the buttons of Malcolm's shirt. He immediately saw what he had not
seen in the wood. Malcolm was developing quite a thick pelt of ginger hair
on his chest. He rubbed his hands through it. "Oh, I like this."
"Well, let me see if you've got any." Malcolm undid Ben's shirt, and found
a smaller patch of dark hair between the nipples. He then undid the belt
holding up Ben's trousers. These were undone and lowered to the floor, and
he then pulled down the pants, revealing Ben's cock, standing proudly out,
the helmet half revealed moist and a deep pink in colour. Malcolm felt
the cock and balls for a few moments.
Then Ben did the same to Malcolm. His cock was soon standing fully erect.
His helmet was fully revealed and already a strand of precum was falling to
the floor.
"My! You leak lot of precum. I remember in the wood."
"I know. I'm sorry."
"There's nothing to be sorry about. I bet it tastes good." Ben knelt down
and licked the head of Malcolm's cock. He licked his lips. "It tastes
good." He put Malcolm's cock in his mouth and twirled his tongue around,
making appreciative noises the whole time.
This was all a totally new experience to Malcolm. "Careful! I'm going to
shoot."
Ben removed his mouth, and stood up. They pressed themselves together,
and let their hands now feel each other's back and buttocks. Then they got
down on to the mattress, and lay side by side, with as much of their bodies
touching as they could manage.
"You know, Ben," whispered Malcolm. "When we were in the wood, and you
stood behind me with your cock against my bum crack. I had this feeling.
Never expected to feel it, but it was there. I didn't want your cock like
that, I wanted it pressing into me. I wanted it to penetrate me."
"You wanted to be fucked?"
"I suppose I did." Malcolm paused. "Have you ever been fucked, Ben?"
"Yes. Several times."
"What's it like? Does it hurt?"
"It often does a bit the first time or two. But if the guy is careful and
takes his time it's not too bad. When you get used to it, it 's great.
I'd love to have your monster deep inside me."
"Would you. Would you, really?"
"Yes, Mal. I'd love to be fucked by you. And I'd love to fuck you. How
long have we got?"
They looked at their watches, which they had both kept on, along with their
socks. It was nearly ten o'clock.
" I'd like to be home by midnight, preferably before. I said I'd be back by
11.00. Mum starts worrying if I am home later than I said, and there would
be some questions asked."
"Let's save that for another day, Mal. When we've got time, plenty of
time. I'd like to suck you off tonight."
"I've never been sucked by a guy, Ben."
"I know. You don't have to do anything you don't want to do. My cock would
like a suck from you, tonight, tomorrow night, or in a year's time.
Whenever you want, and not before. I'll fuck you when you want, and not
before."
"Does it seem strange? I seem to want to be fucked more than I want to suck
at the moment."
"That's fine by me." Ben moved so he could lie between Malcolm's legs on
his stomach and suck Malcolm's cock. Malcolm raised himself on his elbows
so he could watch what was happening. He saw Ben's lips surround his cock,
and his head go up and down. He reached down with one hand to fondle Ben's
hair and ears. Ben did not have to suck for long. Malcolm told him that
climax was approaching, expecting Ben to stop sucking. Ben continued, and
soon received a full blast of hot seed in his mouth. He swallowed and
sucked. Malcolm's cock began to grow limp, and only then did Ben remove
his mouth.
"You taste good, Mal. I wasn't going to waste a drop of your precious
spunk."
"Was it really?"
Ben moved up and gave Malcolm a kiss.
"Thank you," said Malcolm.
"Thank you, too."
"Let me do the same to you."
"You sure? I didn't think you wanted to."
"I didn't, but having experienced that, and seeing your enjoyment, I want
to give and to get as you did."
They reversed their positions. Malcolm held Ben's cock in his hand and
looked at it for a moment.
"You don't have to, Mal."
"I'm just giving it a close look." He kissed the tip, and licked the drop
of precum that he felt on his lips. "I like your taste." He put his
lips round Ben's cock, and started sucking. For a first effort he did
well.
Very soon Ben was saying softly, "I'm getting close, Mal. You can pull
away if you want to."
Mal gave his head a slight shake, but sucking the whole time. He felt
Ben's cock expand slightly, and then suddenly his mouth was filled with
spurts of Ben's juice. He swallowed and sucked. He took his mouth away,
and looked up at Ben with a hint of triumph in his eyes.
"Well done. That was good. Thank you."
"I enjoyed it, to the last drop too," said Malcolm.
They lay in each other's arms for quite a while. Then above the soft music
of the radio, they heard Mrs Mann's grandfather clock in the hall solemnly
strike eleven.
"I must be going, Ben."
"I suppose so. But there will be plenty more times."
"I certainly hope so."
They got up and dressed. They put the mattress and the bedclothes back on
the bed, and Malcolm made his way home. He was back inside by 11.45pm.
The friendship developed quickly. Malcolm invited Ben round for a meal.
The pattern of that first cricketing Saturday was repeated. Malcolm tried
to persuade Ben to fuck him.
"No, your first time must be special. And we need time."
"My first time of any sort of sex wasn't special. A wet wood in hail storm,
huddled under an oak tree!"
"But Mal, what an oak. Probably three or four hundred years old. And when
you came in my hand shooting stars of spunk out onto the ground, what
happened? At that moment the sun in all its glory came out and shone beams
of light on us, wanting to see the wonder of your first time at the hand of
another man. It was special."
"I suppose it was. I am not poetic like you," said Malcolm. "But I did
enjoy it."
Events fairly quickly played into their hands. Malcolm's parents had been
invited to a family wedding down in the South West. It meant they had to
travel down on the Friday afternoon and would not be back until sometime on
Sunday afternoon. Malcolm was entrusted with looking after the shop on the
Saturday. For him no cricket that day; but as compensation Ben could come
and spend both Friday and Saturday nights with him.
That was the occasion when Ben initiated Malcolm into that final expression
of male love. They had a quick meal. It had been prepared and left ready
by Mrs Pridham. Malcolm rose from the table and took Ben by the hand and
began to lead him out of the room.
"What about the washing up, Mal?"
"That can wait until tomorrow. There are more important things to do." He
led Ben by the hand upstairs into the bath room.
They had both been working, so on the principle that 'Cleanliness is next
to Godliness', a bath was the first item on the evening's agenda. The
Pridham family bath was a big one. They both got in it. They carefully
refrained from exciting each other. They enjoyed the warm soapy water, and
talked. They soaped each other, each paying particular attention to the
areas that were going to be important in the hours ahead. They stepped out
of the bath and dried each other. It was at this stage that each cock began
to harden. They both knew what was in store.
Once dry they made their way to Malcolm's bedroom. It was a single bed,
just three foot. They climbed in and lying on their sides began to cuddle
and kiss.
After some minutes Malcolm turned his back to Ben and pushed his buttocks
into Ben's groin, feeling immediately the hard cock sticking into him.
"I know what you want."
"We've got all the evening, and all night. So I don't think there is any
excuse. I want you Ben. I want you deep within. I want your love juice."
"You say you're not poetic. You seem to have some poetic feelings." Ben
placed a kiss on his loved one's neck.
Ben made Malcolm lie on his front, with his stomach raised by a pillow. He
planted several kisses on Malcolm's buttocks. Then he took the small jar of
Vaseline, and put some on a finger. He slowly worked his finger along the
crack between Malcolm's buttocks. Each time his finger lightly passed the
entrance Malcolm groaned with appreciation.
"Oh, Ben that's wonderful."
Ben put some more Vaseline on his finger and began to concentrate on the
entrance. He began to push his finger in.
"Relax, Mal. Relax as much as you can."
He pushed his one finger right in. And then started working it in and out,
and moving it around inside. They were more sounds of pleasure from
Malcolm.
Then some more Vaseline, and a second finger worked its way inside. This
took a little longer, but Ben was gentle and patient. Malcolm opened and
the second finger made its way in.
Eventually taking a long time Ben worked a third finger into his friend.
Almost the whole of the contents of the small jar of Vaseline was used.
Everywhere was very smooth and slippery. Ben kept his fingers in place,
and moved so he was kneeling over Malcolm Taking great care to get the
position right, Ben slowly removed his fingers, and raising himself placed
his cock between Malcolm's buttocks and began to push. Slowly his cock made
its entrance.
Malcolm felt Ben's cock making its smooth entrance. He kept himself
relaxed. He was enjoying it. He then felt Ben's pubic hair and balls
against his buttocks. He sighed deeply.
"Thank you, Ben. That feels every bit as good as I dared to imagine."
Ben rested, keeping most of his weight on his knees and arms.
Malcolm squeezed his insides to grip Ben's cock. That seemed to be a
signal. Ben began to move his cock in and out. They were both making
appreciative noises.
"I am going to shoot," said Ben. He pushed his cock in as far as it would
go, for a moment he was still, and then his cock pulsed and he felt shot
after shot shoot out of his cock into Malcolm.
Malcolm felt Ben go rigid deep within. Then he felt Ben's cock convulse,
and what seemed a torrent of hot spunk pour in great gushes into him. He
then could hold back no longer and his cock was pouring out his life seed
onto the pillow beneath him.
Ben collapsed onto Malcolm. They were both breathing hard.
"Thanks Ben. Thanks. It was worth waiting for."
The only trouble was that Malcolm had to get up early to open up the shop.
Ben stayed at Malcolm's that Saturday. He did the washing up from the
evening before. He washed out the spunky pillow and hung it out on a line
to dry. Then he had to go off to play cricket. It was late when he got
back to Malcolm's home. But Malcolm had cooked a meal for when Ben arrived
back. This time Ben had a quick bath before the meal. This itself was a
romantic preliminary. Malcolm had bought some candles home from the shop,
and finding a couple of candlesticks had lit them. They lingered over the
meal, talking, about the day, yes, and of course cricket, but also the
magic of the night before.
Then they made their way upstairs for another night of love making. They
are the only words to use. The word sex, is crude, harsh, and clinical.
No, there was some real love between Ben and Malcolm.
The friendship flourished over the next two years. They enjoyed their
cricket together. Ben was always welcome in the Pridham home. During the
winter they did many other things together. Two or three times they went
out to a pub on the Dunstable Road that was known as a meeting place for men
who liked men. They did not pick anyone up, but they enjoyed the ambience
of the place. Ben being the older and the more experienced told Malcolm
much about the homosexual, or queer scene. In those days the word gay still
had its original meaning of light hearted and mirthful. Homosexual acts
were still illegal, but for those in the know there were ways and means.
Throughout Ben had been completely open about his work prospects. He was on
a three year contract with the work he was during at the airport. Luton
airport in the 1950s was not as important as it was to become. At the end
of it he was hoping for a move to a better job at a larger and more
important airport. From the start of the friendship both had known it was
going to change radically when Ben moved away.
There was also another side to life for Malcolm. The family business was
now into the fourth generation. Our Malcolm was an only son. It was
expected that he would take over the family business when his time came. It
was also expected that he would provide a son and heir to take over from
him. Marriage and children were just presumed for him. He never questioned
it. In the 1950s the overwhelming majority of men married - for better or
for worse. The unmarried man, whether he lived down the street, or was a
bachelor uncle, was regarded as unfortunate, in that he had never attracted
a wife, or eccentric and probably to be avoided. Malcolm expected to get
married.
As he got older the expectations of his parents began to become vocal.
Especially as there were no girl friends brought home. The trouble was he
just did not do the things, or go to the places where he might meet 'a nice
girl'. Sport, and especially cricket, was his spare time passion. He
worked hard, and was thoroughly committed to the family business. His
father had no worries about that.
Ben eventually got a job up at Manchester. They kept in close contact for a
couple of years. They tried to see each other every three or four months.
Often Malcolm would have a weekend up in Manchester. They were free to do
what they wanted without question in the privacy of Ben's flat. Their love
making was still good, and they always had a lot of news to catch up on.
Both were finding sexual action elsewhere, and both were happy about that.
But after two years the intervals between visits began to lengthen.
Soon after Ben left for Manchester Malcolm paid a visit to the pub on
Dunstable Road. He went in and sat on a stool by the bar, and ordered a
pint of bitter. He looked around, and there was the usual assortment of
men present, some were in couples, several were by themselves. After a
couple of minutes a guy at the other end of the bar caught his eye and
smiled. Malcolm smiled back. The man looked to be in his early thirties.
The man then moved across and sat on the stool next to Malcolm.
"Your friend not with you tonight?"
"You recognise me then?"
"Yes, with that red hair you rather stand out in a crowd."
"Oh! My friend has moved up to Manchester."
"You looked to be good friends."
"We were, or rather are. I'm hoping to go up and see him for a couple of
days in a few weeks time."
"You miss him then?"
"Yes. I do."
"How long had you known him?"
"Couple of years."
"Something of a steady relationship then?"
"You could say that."
"Saw a lot of each other?"
Malcolm laughed at the double entendre. He blushed slightly "You can say
that." But he decided he had fielded questions for long enough. "Do you
come here often?"
"About once or perhaps twice a month. I like it here."
"Yea. It's an interesting place."
"Good place for meeting like minded guys."
Malcolm grinned back.
"My name's Bob."
"Mine's Mal."
"Like another?" said Bob nodding toward Mal's empty glass.
Another couple of pints were ordered.
"You always meet your like minded guy?"
"Sometimes, not always, Mal."
"Then what?"
Bob put his hand on Malcolm's knee. "I've a car. and I live in a flat not
too far away."
"I see."
"If it goes well we meet again. Sometimes several times." He gave Mal's
knee a slight rub.
Malcolm felt a familiar stirring in his groin. Malcolm put his own hand on
his thigh so he could gently rub Bob's hand with a finger. They grinned at
each other.
"How did you get here then?"
"Came in my old car," replied Malcolm.
"Can't offer you a little ride in mine then?"
"I wouldn't want to leave it here and have to come back for it. But I could
follow you."
"To my place then?
"Yeah! Why not."
They both drank up their beers, and went out into the car park. As they
left the pub Bob's hand felt Malcolm's bum.
"That feels good," said Malcolm.
"We can soon be feeling more. Follow me. I only live three quarters of a
mile away."
They climbed into their cars and Bob led the way to his flat. It was on the
third floor of a block of flats. As they went up the stairs, Bob said,
"It's not much of a place round here, but I like the flat."
They went into the flat, and Malcolm was surprised. The staircase and
landings of the flat were drab, and in much need of decorating. But the
flat was totally different. There was a thick carpet on the floor, and
some good pieces of furniture. Bob led the way through to a sitting room.
It was well furnished with some good pictures on the wall.
Bob must have seen the surprise on Malcolm's face. "Like it?"
"Very nice."
"Like another drink?"
"No thanks."
Bob came up to Malcolm and put his arms round him and kissed his mouth.
Malcolm immediately responded and soon they were giving each other deep
tonguing kisses.
"What do you like then?"
"Almost anything."
"Good. Let's go where we can enjoy ourselves more easily. Bob led the way
through to the bedroom. There was a huge king sized bed. Bob came up and
started to undo Malcolm's coat and remove his shirt. Soon they were
standing naked in front of each other. Bob was dark haired, and slightly
taller than Malcolm. He had very little body hair, but a very dark pubic
patch. His cock was swelling as Malcolm watched. He realised that it was
cut. That would make it a first encounter for him.
"You're red haired all over then."
"Yes." said Malcolm proudly.
"I've often wondered with guys of your colouring!"
They climbed onto the bed, and started getting close. Hands moved and
felt. Mouths met and kissed passionately. Bob rolled on top of Malcolm and
pressed his crotch into him. Malcolm's hands felt Bob's buttocks, and his
finger explored Bob's crack. There were appreciative noises from Bob.
Malcolm rolled on top of Bob, and Bob's hands and finger explored.
"I want to fuck you Mal."
"I'm happy with that."
A small jar with some lubricant in it was produced, and Malcolm lay on his
back and pulled his knees up to his chest. Bob positioned himself and with
a minimum of difficulty his cock slid into Malcolm.
"You all right Mal?"
"Fine. You can keep it there as long as you like."
Bob was a expert. Slowly over much time he increased the movements of his
cock within Malcolm. When ever he felt he was approaching his climax or
Malcolm was drawing near to his, he stopped. Eventually with great noises
from the mouths of them both they climaxed together. They collapsed onto
the bed, and lay for a while entwined in each others arms. Then the role
was reversed, and doggie style Malcolm pleasured Bob, with much pleasure to
himself.
It was 3.30 in the morning when Malcolm crept soundlessly back home. He
did not encounter Bob again.
Malcolm continued to play cricket in the summer for Whitgest. His clapped
out second hand car spluttered its way up the hills between Luton and
Whitgest. As his cricketing skills matured in his early twenties he became
Whitgest's most successful batsmen. He was an aggressive player, with an
almost complete repertoire of strokes. He was not afraid to hook the ball,
and when he had his eye in his late cut was timed to perfection. For well
over a decade he topped the Whitgest batting averages. In most of those
seasons he scored one or two centuries, and that is no mean feat in club
cricket.
The summer of 1964 was a particularly good one for Malcolm's cricket. The
final match of the season was on Saturday 12th September. Malcolm's father
had very rarely seen him play, because of shop commitments. But on that
final Saturday Malcolm persuaded his parents to come out to Whitgest to see
the match. It was one of those glorious warm September days that seem to
say that warm days will never cease. They were playing the neighbouring
village of Bunting. There was a deadly rivalry between the two villages,
and the annual soccer and cricket matches were always strongly contested.
There were always more spectators present than for any other game.
Whitgest won the toss and sent Bunting in to bat. The wicket did not live
up to expectations of early movement, and Bunting did well and scored 203.
That presented Whitgest with a formidable target. To make the problem worse
one of their opening batsmen was unable to play. This meant Malcolm had to
open the batting. He usually went in first wicket down. The first ball he
received, a loose opening bowl, he hooked for a six. That was the beginning
of a run feast for Malcolm. He ruthlessly plundered the bowling.
Unfortunately the other batsmen did not do well. None of them scored more
that fifteen. At one time it looked as though he was going to run out of
partners. The score reached 180 for 9 wickets. Bunting needed to take just
one more wicket to win. Whitgest's last man was a fast bowler, and nothing
of a batsman. Malcolm had to keep most of the bowling, trying to score a
single off the last ball of each over. The total crept up. The Bunting
fielders spread out at the beginning of each over to stop the ball reaching
the boundary, which scored four, and coming close in at the end of the over
to stop the single so that the last man would have to face the bowling. The
200 was passed with a hastily scampered single off the last ball. Whitgest
were 201 for nine, and Malcolm's score was 98. For the third ball of the
next over Malcolm stepped down the wicket and produced a classic cover
drive. It was a boundary all the way. Malcolm's score was 102 not out.
His fellow team mates rushed out of the pavilion and carried him shoulder
high from the pitch. It was a moment long remembered in the annals of
Whitgest cricket.
It was one of the proudest moments of the senior Mr Pridham's life. Over
the rest of the weekend he could talk of nothing else. He seemed to have
remembered every stroke of Malcolm's innings.
<<<>>>
On the Wednesday morning the day began as usual in the Pridham household.
Malcolm always got up first, and went through the bathroom, got his own
breakfast, and then took his parents up a cup of tea, before going off to
work. Malcolm opened the shop and his father usually arrived about 10.00am.
His parents drank their tea, and chatted for a while. Again Malcolm's
innings was mentioned. His father then got up, and went into the bathroom.
Several minutes later his mother heard a thump, and getting out of bed
went to investigate. Malcolm's father was lying dead on the floor. A post
mortem revealed a severe heart attack.
So at the age of twenty-eight Malcolm was in charge of Pridham's
Ironmongers, founded 1855.
Malcolm had long known that one day he would be taking over. He had not
expected it to happen so soon or so suddenly. He was immediately into a
steep learning curve. As the only son all the things that have to be done
in these circumstances, like the registration of the death and the
arrangements for the funeral, to a large extent fell on him. He was
immediately faced with all the business work that his father usually did.
His father knew where everything was, including all the papers in the small
room at the back of the shop that was called the office. The trouble was no
one else knew where everything was. Malcolm was certainly thrown in at the
deep end.
He was faced with the task of making head or tail of his father's system.
He knew the financial state of the business, for properly audited account
were produced each year, and his father went through them with him. It was
all there in the chaos of that small back room called the office.
<<<>>>
Whitgest Cricket Club had the tradition of holding an end of season dinner
on the Saturday of the autumn half term towards the end of October. It was
an important social occasion in the life of the village. It was not held in
the village, as none of the pubs were big enough or indeed good enough;
and the village hall was not deemed suitable. It was a dinner jacket
affair. A hotel restaurant in Hitchin was booked, and any number from fifty
to a hundred attended.
Malcolm did not want to go. He was exhausted. His father's funeral, and
all the extra hours he was having to spend at the shop on the paper work
left him just wanting to crawl home and go to bed.
He talked it over with his mother.
"The truth is, Mum, I just don't feel like going."
"But you must go, Malcolm. Your father would want you to go, especially
after scoring that century in the final match."
"I just don't feel like dressing up, and being sociable."
"Too much work and no play, makes Jack a dull boy," quoted his mother. "You
will become a bore, stuck at the shop all hours of the day and night. You
need to get out and do something different."
A fleeting thought of the sort of different thing he would like to do went
through his mind, but he gave in. "Okay then. I'll go."
On the Saturday evening of the dinner, Malcolm got back home just in time
to have a bath and dress for dinner. His mother had carefully laid out his
dinner jacket, shirt and tie. Everything was ready for him. She'd even
cleaned his shoes. Once ready, he took a quick glance at himself in a
mirror, and went down stairs.
As he came into the room where his mother was seated, she got up to look at
him properly. Her eyes became slightly moist as she was reminded to
strongly of another Malcolm Pridham, who also had had a mass of red hair.
"Malcolm, you look just like your Dad, when he was your age. You look
stunning, dressed smartly, and with that hair of yours."
"Its always me and my hair," moaned Malcolm. He gave his mother a kiss.
"I don't really want to go." He moved towards the door.
"Go on - off with you! You never know, you might meet a nice girl."
He turned, stuck out his tongue and gave his mother a wink. He left the
room to the sound of her laughter.
He was one of the last to arrive at the hotel in Hitchin. When he came into
the room where all the party were gathered, every one started clapping.
He went a bright red. A waiter offered him a tray with drinks on it, and
he took a dry sherry. General conversation was resumed. An inspection of
the seating plan showed that he had been placed between Mrs Alice Authbert
and a Miss Janice Applecross. He knew Mrs Authbert as the rather
formidable wife of one of the older members of the club. Her husband had
stopped playing some twenty years before. Malcolm knew nothing of Janice
Applecross.
When they went to their seats. He saw that Janice Applecross was a young
woman in her early twenties.
He introduced himself, "Hello, I'm Mal Pridham. I don't think we've met
before."
"I'm Janice Applecross."
They shook hands and Malcolm held her chair as she sat down. During the
first course, he talked with Mrs Authbert on his right, as was correct.
When the main course started he turned to Janice.
"Why did they all clap you when you came in?" she asked.
"Oh! I made a ton against Bunting in the last game."
"A century! Was it your first?"
"No. I've made one or two before." The truth was that it was his sixth
century.
"Was it an exciting game?"
"Yes, we won by just one wicket."
"I wish I could have been there."
"You like cricket then?"
"Yes. I watch it whenever I can. I often go to a Test Match with my uncle,
George Sunley." George Sunley was one of the more senior supporters of
village cricket.
They talked cricket for a while.
"So what do you do when you're not playing cricket?"
"I'm an ironmonger."
"An ironmonger!" said Janice with a considerable note of surprise in her
voice.
"Yes. I am the Malcolm Pridham, of Pridhams in the High Street of Luton."
"I know. I don't think I have ever bought anything from there. Mind you I
don't often shop in Luton. St Albans is my usual shopping centre. Do you
mind if I say something rather cheeky?"
"Go ahead."
"Aren't you a bit young to be the Malcolm Pridham?"
Malcolm laughed. "I have been the Malcolm Pridham for just over a month.
My father died just over a month ago."
"I'm sorry. My remark must be rather hurtful in the circumstances."
"That's all right. But what do you do?" asked Malcolm.
"I have just finished a secretarial course. I'm looking for a job."
"That's what I could do with. A good secretary. Dad knew where everything
on the office side was. He had his own method, his own filing system. I
seem to spend hours trying to find things, and work things out."
"Sounds as though you do need a good secretary then. To run your office."
Before he knew what he was saying the words were out of his mouth, "You
interested?"
"Might be."
"Seriously?"
"Are you serious?" said Janice with a smile.
"I think I am. I do need help. Can you come along on Monday and we can
talk some more?"
"Yes! What time."
"11.00 in the morning."
It was a very thoughtful Malcolm that greeted his mother the next morning.
She was all eager to know about the dinner, but soon detected that
something was amiss with her son.
"Mum, I think I might have done something foolish. I sat next to this
girl last night. She is a secretary looking for a job, and I said I was
needing a secretary, and she's coming to the shop on Monday morning."
"If you need a secretary, you need one. Take it properly on Monday.
References, hours, pay, holidays and so on. And take her on for a trial
period to see how you get on. And you're not going to expect her to work
in that pokey hole you call an office are you?"
"That's one of the things I am worried about."
"Why don't you turn one of the upstairs rooms in to a proper office. I was
on at your father for years to do that. But you know how obstinate he could
be."
Malcolm went into the shop early on the Monday, and spent a good hour
looking at the premises with an eye to creating an office. He decided he
would do the job properly. One larger room could be for the secretary,
and a smaller room could be for him, where he could see people and talk on
the phone in private. He also realised that he would need to update the
ancient and rather sordid Victorian toilets. It would cost him a lot. But
he had plans, big plans for Pridham's.
When 11.00am on the Monday morning arrived he hardly recognised Janice. No
longer in the evening dress she had worn to the dinner, she was attired in a
smart businesslike rig out. He showed her round. Explained his plans. But
they would take time.
"Is there nowhere else I could work, Mr Pridham? Looking at the state of
your papers in the office you need help yesterday, not in a couple of
months time."
"Give me a couple of minutes. I've just had an idea."
Malcolm returned with a broad smile on his face. "How do you say to this?
We move everything in this office, very carefully, labelling each pile of
papers and where it was. We take them to my home. My mother says we can
have the dining room as an office until we can be properly installed
upstairs. Then you can start more or less straight away. Once at home,
you can start bringing order to this chaos. The amazing thing was Dad knew
where everything was. Never had to spend time searching."
"Some people are like that. The names of the files are in their head, and
their system is known only to them. I am sure I can sort it out."
It took Janice ten days to sort it all out. In place of the chaos of paper
there were neatly labelled files.
Mrs Pridham enjoyed having Janice in the house. There was a morning cup of
coffee to be made, as well as cups of tea at lunch time, and in the
afternoon. Their days were punctuated with little snippets of conversation.
At the end of a week Mrs Pridham began to hope, but she said nothing..
At the end of a month she was praying, but still said nothing.
It took two months to get the rooms above the shop sorted out. They made
very nice offices. Malcolm thought it would help with his business.
Pridham's was going to change. Certainly no more a corner shop, now a High
Street shop, soon to be part of a chain of stores in the area to the north
of London.
If Malcolm was quick when it came to business, or cricket for that matter,
he was slow when it came to the female of the species. Several times he
consulted his mother. "How can I say thank you to Janice, for all the work
she's done?" "Do I invite her to the usual pre Christmas booze up along
with Tom and Alan who work in the shop?" "What can I give her for
Christmas? I know what to give the men. But women...." She kept her smile
to herself, gave wise advice in answer to each request, but said nothing
more.
Malcolm found himself enjoying the company of his secretary. He found
himself telling her his plans for the business. He found himself telling
her quite a lot about himself, and wanting to know more about her. Then
one evening he plucked up courage and asked her out for a meal, and was
pleased when she accepted. When he invited her home for a meal, his mother
was delighted, and just accepted it as though it was the most natural thing
in the world, but said nothing.
When in October 1965 he brought Janice home with an engagement ring on her
finger, his mother was over the moon. She gave Janice a hug and a kiss,
and correctly wished her all the best.
Then she turned to her son, "It's taken you long enough, Malcolm Pridham.
At long last you have shown some sense under that unruly mop of red hair. I
am delighted." She gave him a kiss. "I started hoping when Janice was
working here. I only wish your poor father knew. It took him as long to
make up his mind about me. Let's stop the meal we were going to have here,
and go out and have a good celebratory meal on me."
Janice and Malcolm bought a house in Luton, and were married on Wednesday
14th September 1966. Wednesday was still early closing day so that meant
all the shop staff could attend.
Malcolm paid his last visit to the pub in Dunstable Road about a month
before his wedding. He thought he ought to give up that sort of thing. He
did so with some sadness.
Two months after their wedding Janice told Malcolm one morning at work. "I
am afraid, Mr Pridham, I am going to have to give you notice that I am going
to have to give up being your secretary."
"You're what, Janice?" exclaimed Malcolm.
"I cannot do two jobs at once, be the mother of your child and your
secretary."
Malcolm shouted for joy.
At the end of July the first baby was born. Eighteen months later another;
and eighteen months after that the third. They were all sons. All were
sturdily built and all had ginger hair. The Pridham genes were strong
there. And they all dominated the Whitgest batting in the late 1980s and
1990s. All three got fed up with being told that however good their innings
it was not as good as their father's swashbuckling hundred against Bunting
in the summer of '64.
<<<>>>
Malcolm arrived home still angry about the homophobic attitudes displayed at
the dinner party, but also missing more than ever some close body contact
with a man. He sighed as he walked up to the house. If only there was some
man in the village like him. But there was not, so that was that.
Jeffyrks@hotmail.com